Fix You
by KickingRoses
Summary: Howard becomes the victim of an attack by a street fighter, an event that leaves him broken and unsure of himself, with no one but Vince to pick up the pieces. Basic hurt/comfort story. Nothing graphic.


**Yo. Just a little hurt/comfort one-shot for you as I try and get over my writer's block for the last part of My Reason. Hopefully it won't take too long. Enjoy.  
**

**Disclaimer: Boosh isn't mine. Lyrics used are from "Blue" by Angie Hart which I also don't own. Vince's epic line is from RENT which I also, sadly, don't own.  
**

* * *

_Night falls,_

_I fall,_

_And where were you?_

_Where were you?_

He pushed himself up with some difficulty.

_Warm skin,_

_Wolf grin,_

_And where were you?_

He was sure they were gone by now. Would they come back? No, they'd had their fun for tonight. Their game hadn't been so enjoyable when he seemingly wasn't awake to enjoy it. Little did they know that he'd been fully conscious till the second they'd left.

_I fell into the Moon_

_And it covered you in Blue._

_I fell into the Moon,_

_Can I make it right?_

_Can I spend the night?_

Howard raised a shaking hand to his face. When he pulled it back to examine, he almost balked at the sight, his knees buckling. The thick crimson fluid on his jittering fingertips shimmered beneath the street light.

"…Shit." he winced, before his eyes rolled back and he collapsed back down on the cold, hard pavement.

* * *

Vince was stretched out on the sofa, half-heartedly flicking through the channels on the T.V via the remote; "Boring…boring…boring…." he droned to himself, face half-smooshed into a velvet cushion.

Ridiculous. Seven thousand channels from nine different planets and not one had anything good on. Howard was right when he'd said it was a waste for Naboo to buy the new Deluxe Interstellar Sky package, even if he did have a foreign species special discount. Vince sighed, settling for the Martian version of X Factor. It took him half an hour to realize he was actually watching the Earth version.

"Ugh," he groaned to himself, bored out of his skull; "'Wish Howard would hurry up with the Chinese."

The front door below the flat burst open.

"Wow." Vince sat up, even his own luck surprising him; "…I wish I had a million euros?"

An auditioning cricket chirped enthusiastically on the T.V

"Worth a try." He sighed to himself, watching as the cricket received a savage berate by Simon Cowell for 'murdering Wind Beneath My Wings' that left the poor little insect in floods, or rather a heavy trickle, of tears.

Footsteps and muttered banter clambered their way up the stairs. Vince frowned and bounced up off the sofa to face the stairway expectantly.

"You're just exaggerating, you hairy ball bag. Don't be so sensitive, you're supposed to be a mighty primate. Oh hey, Vince."

Naboo and Bollo nodded in Vince's direction - Bollo's face lighting up somewhat, as much as a big old gorilla's mush could do - before placing some of their DJ equipment in the corner of the living room, out of the way of clumsy feet.

Vince tutted, disappointed; "'Thought you two were Howard!"

The shaman and ape exchanged blank looks.

"What gave us away?" Naboo asked sarcastically. The mod ignored this.

"He was supposed to be back with the food by now. M'starving." Vince's arms wrapped themselves around his practically concave stomach.

"Well Heaven forbid you make anything yourself."

"C'mon, Naboo, you know the disasters that happen when I try and cook for myself."

"Exactly. Hence why Heaven forbids you ever cook again. Try and you can expect a not-so-friendly invasion of locusts next time you take a shower."

"Ew," Vince cringed, making sure his lone brain cell stored that bit of information away for once. "Anyway, what were you two talking about? Why's Bollo too sensitive?"

"Oh he's just sulking because this old guy recognised me from that gig we did at that pub back near Black Lake a couple o' years ago. But they didn't remember Bollo."

"No one ever remember the drummer." Bollo grunted miserably.

"Aw, c'mon, Bollo, that's not true." Vince comforted, laying a hand on the dejected ape's shoulder; "There's lots of renowned drummers. Like…uhm…Oh! That one from Guns & Roses; Axl Rose!"

"He's the lead singer, you idiot." Naboo snorted.

"Ok then, uh…Ah! Super Mario! He's a famous drummer."

Bollo grizzled; "He famous plumber."

"Oh yeah. Sorry. Well you're more recognisable than Howard." Vince patted his furry friend on the back.

"Microphone stand more recognisable than Howard. But Vince nice for trying to cheer Bollo up. Howard still no return. Vince want Bollo to make macaroni and cheese?"

"Thanks, Bollo. But Howard'll be back soon. He probably just got distracted listening to another homeless person playing a saxophone and thinking he was at a jazz concert. Again."

Bollo gave one last grunt before dragging his hairy knuckles in his master's wake down the hall and towards Naboo's bedroom. Vince bit his lip, feeling slightly guilty for lying just then. Truth was, Howard did get recognised a lot more than either of them expected. Not always by the most mentally stable of fans but there were occasions, now and then, when some stunning woman would approach them on the street, and Vince would prepare the usual polite lines - only for her focus to be a hundred percent given to a bemused Howard. Vince smiled to himself. It wasn't that strange when he really thought about it. It was expected if anything. Howard was devastatingly handsome. Tall, mysterious and charming in his own anal way. He definitely had a strong appeal…Vince assumed. To a certain person.

He slumped back down onto the sofa, feeling oddly more alone than before the flat had been invaded by an ape and a shaman. His stomach gave a fearsome growl. Vince smacked at it to shut it up. Then there was something else. The odd, burning sting in his chest. A strange sensation that usually only went off during some mad-cap, epic adventure at the point where Howard had undoubtedly got himself in some stupid, potentially fatal predicament. But this was just another Saturday night. Why was it going off now?

Vince shook his head, telling himself he was imagining things. Not even Howard could screw up going to collect the Chinese. He lay his head back on the sofa, eyes fixed across the TV screen, his fingers toying with the silver lightning bolt necklace Howard had given him once upon a Zooniverse Christmas.

The front door swung open with the force of a hurricanes fist. It quickly slammed shut and Vince jolted awake. He realized he must have only drifted off for a second because it was still the same programme on the telly. He rubbed his eyes, relieved to be freed from the nightmarish memory of Fossil prancing around the old zoo, dressed as Mrs. Clause.

"H'ward?" He yawned, sitting up and stretching.

He was confused as to why no feet were pounding up the stairs yet. Not that Howard was one to bounce or skip as Vince was. But he'd thought Howard would be in his usual rush to get the food set out before it went cold.

Vince got up off the sofa and trotted to the stairway; "Howard? 'That you?"

A set of keys jangled below in response.

Vince made his way rather swiftly, from hunger or worry - he wasn't too sure which - down the staircase. When he nearly reached the bottom, he spotted Howard leaning against the wall with his back to him, one arm up and cushioning the side of his head.

"What took you so long? I've been wasting away 'ere! Did you go to India to get that Chinese?" Vince whined, pausing on the stairway. He then scanned his friend to see there were no bags of food in his possession; "You didn't even get it? All that time and you ain't even got the food!"

"…I'm sorry." The replying voice was so sour and brittle that it chilled Vince beneath his poncho.

"Well, what 'appened? And don't think you can use any of my excuses 'cause I 'ad them copyrighted."

Howard didn't reply. Vince's stinging sensation gave another twinge.

"C'mon, Howard, I ain't really that mad." He softened. He crept closer to the silent maverick; "Bollo said he'd make me Mac and Cheese. I can get round 'im to make you some as well…Howard, did something 'appen?" He reached out a hand to touch his friend's shoulder.

One fingertip was all it took to make Howard start. In a blur of timeless motion, he span around and shot past Vince, making the mod flinch back against the wall. He'd never seen Howard move so fast in his life. He hadn't even made time for a "Don't touch me". Except it hadn't been too fast for Vince to blink and miss the flash of dark red stained upon Howard's face.

Panic set up camp inside him. He began praying inwardly to Jagger for help to a crisis he didn't even know existed yet.

He quickly followed him up the stairs, pausing at the top when he saw that Howard had come to a stop in front of the mirror in the living room. It had taken a few seconds for Vince to remember that it was a mirror and not some obscure Picasso painting as he saw Howard's face reflected in the surface. He grabbed at the stair rail beside him to keep upright.

"Howard…what…?" Vince stammered, letting go of the rail and walking slowly closer up to his friend.

Howard continued to stand before the mirror, taking in his battered and bloody face with an eerie, all too passive expression beneath the cuts and swelling bruises.

As Vince stepped nearer, he noticed that the wounds didn't look quite as bad as they had from afar. Not that they were gonna get Howard on the cover of Vogue either. The blood that had dried on his face seemed to have ran from a scary looking cut above Howard's right eye. Any closer and Howard would've needed to think of buying a pirate's eye patch. The rest were mainly deep nicks and purple marks darkening to black.

"Who did this to you?" The words that escaped Vince's mouth were so cold and hard it seemed impossible for anyone like him to have muttered them. "Howard. Who did this to you?"

No reply at first. Then Howard opened his mouth to speak; only to sway on his feet.

Vince rushed forward, holding him up from behind with more strength than he was aware he possessed - Howard was a big man. "Easy…" he whispered; "You're in shock…are you? M'not that good with medical malarkey."

Howard nodded lightly, his fists held upwards against his chest as if frozen in a defensive position.

"C'mon…Let's sit you down," Vince kept one arm behind the small of Howard's back, slipping his free hand over one of Howard's. He'd never known him to feel so cold. Not that hugs were an often occurrence between them, close to never, but Vince had always thought of Howard as a big, warm, squashy bean bag to curl up against in the frosty, winter nights. Now he felt so tender in Vince's hold that the mod was almost afraid to hold him too tight in case he shattered.

He carefully led Howard across the room to the sofa. Howard moved, stiff yet obedient, beside him and let Vince sit him down, albeit rigidly, on the cushions.

Vince knelt down and examined with devastated awe the man sat before him. Howard's hallow eyes didn't meet his, they merely stared down at his hands now clasped together in his lap. The knuckles on his right hand were grazed and bleeding.

"You were in a fight…?" Vince half-deduced, wondering what could've possessed Howard to be involved in something so stupid.

To his relief, Howard shook his head; "Didn't. Tried to. Hit the wall." his words were fevered and shameful.

In any other circumstances, Vince would've laughed. He expected the day would come when they could look back and laugh. In that moment, however, all Vince wanted to do was cry.

But he didn't. He merely sighed, straightening up; "I'm gonna get Naboo."

"No!"

Howard's hand grabbed a fistful of Vince's poncho. He retracted it at Vince's wide-eyed reaction.

"I don't want," he murmured, placing his hand back in his lap with the other and looking solemnly down at them; "No one else. See me like…"

Vince looked at Howard's hands and saw that he was digging the nails of his left hand into the back of his right, hurting himself even more, though barely aware of it. He knelt down again and took both of Howard's hands in his own.

"'Ey."

Howard met his gaze for the first time since he'd entered the flat, his lips twitching into a scowl.

Vince forced a light smile and caressed the side of Howard's face gently, his fingers weaving between the sore spots; "'Ey. It's just me. You're safe now, alright? You're gonna be ok."

Howard closed his eyes, the twitch in his mouth subsiding. Vince stood up and kissed Howard's brow softly. It tore his heart in two to leave him, if only for half a minute, but he had to go and get what was needed.

When he entered the bathroom, before reaching above in the cabinet for the First Aid kit, Vince paused to lean against the sink with both hands. Now it was his turn to be in shock. He panted heavily, gripping the sink so tight that his knuckles turned white. It wasn't so much the brutal cuts and sores on his as much as it was how it seemed to have effected Howard. He was so quiet. Broken. It terrified Vince to the bone. More so as he had no idea what had done this. Was it another monster? Or one they'd faced before? He half-expected the Hitcher to come storming through their door at any moment, taunting them with his slimy pet eels. But, no, this was something else. Vince could tell. It was something much deeper, something had managed to get to Howard's heart and leave it withered and hopeless. Vince turned the facet and splashed some water over his face to pull him out from his fearful haze. He couldn't afford to fall apart. Howard needed him.

Vince returned to the living room with the Kit in hand. Howard didn't seem to have moved a muscle from when he'd left him. Only now he somehow looked smaller, his shoulders hunched and head bowed. Vince set himself down in front of Howard and began to work. Except he wasn't sure exactly which of the stuff he was supposed to use so Howard had to help him slightly. Vince didn't expect him to speak when he clearly wanted silence and settled for helpful pointing and nodding.

He raised a soaked pad to the nasty cut above Howard's eye but the maverick flinched before Vince could even touch him.

"Relax, I'm not gonna hurt you," he tried to sooth, "It might sting a bit but…"

"It's not that," Howard murmured, his eyes closed. "It's just…"

"What?"

"You don't have to do this…I know you'd rather-"

"Oi." Vince placed a finger on Howard's lips, careful not to brush against a small nick at the right corner; "You know me. I wouldn't be doin' this if I didn't want to, would I? Now stay still."

Howard gulped, complying as Vince set about cleaning him up. He winced sharply every now and then but didn't bolt or squeal as Vince probably would've done had their roles been reversed. It wasn't that he had a lower pain threshold, more the fact that Howard clearly didn't want to appear weak. Especially tonight, it seemed. Vince finished with using his face-wipes to remove the last smears of blood and rain spittle from Howard's face.

"There you are," said Vince with rehearsed cheer; "Starting to look less like a bunch o' grapes and more like a person again now."

That brought a small, near invisible smile to Howard's face. Only for it to quickly morph into a squirm. One hand clutched up over his ribs whilst he began to hiss in pain.

Vince quickly began unbuttoning Howard's shirt. He was worried for a moment that he'd be stopped, with Howard suddenly remembering his precious 'boundaries', but thankfully Howard only raised his hands to help him remove the hideous garment. With the shirt removed, Vince saw Howard's bare torso presented towards him. His mouth went dry. As much as he'd imagined, for reasons he wasn't exactly sure of, seeing such a thing bare naked and so close, this hadn't been how he'd wanted it to happen. And especially not with the deep, heavy bruises marked along his chest. Vince strokes across them gently with his fingertips and he heard Howard hiss again.

"Sorry," he barely whispered, unable to help but be fascinated as well as horrified; "Do they hurt a lot?"

"They're just bruised. Nothing broken, I'd know."

"Anything I can do?"

Howard nodded to the Kit; "That small tube next to the pads. It's arnica cream. You can…"

Vince picked out the tube and squirted some of the cream onto two fingertips. He then set to work, carefully and delicately, smoothing it over the ugly marks over his ribs. It looked as if someone had kicked him while he was down. Vince bit back an enraged breath. He then used some more for the bruises on Howard's cheek and jaw line. Howard squinted as he worked, a stray tear sliding out from his eyelid. Vince leaned in and caught it with a light kiss.

A gasp shuddered between them. Though neither were sure if it was from either of them or both of them. Their faces lingered barely an inch apart, startled eyes pouring into each other, hot breath and the scent of the arnica cream bridging the air between them. Vince sat back, not having the slightest clue as to why he'd just done that. The word 'sorry' was poised on his tongue, only he decided to leave it when Howard's face wasn't one of total disgust. Merely surprise. So instead he settled for an apologetic smile.

"Think that's all we can do for you today," Vince said, mimicking the voice of a doctor as he tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. "Anything else I can give you?"

Howard shook his head again.

Vince inhaled deeply, rubbing one of Howard's large forearms; "Howard…this is all they did to you, yeah? Whoever they were-"

"He."

Vince blinked.

"It was just the one," Howard explained dimly, his cheeks flushing again. "And yeah…what you see is all he did."

Vince sighed, relieved being the understatement of how he felt. He didn't think he'd have been able to continue keeping his cool composure had Howard's answer been different. Not that the bigger man was someone who looked 'asking for it', as he himself was normally accused of, or any of the horribly stereotyped 'usual' victims. Howard just seemed to traumatised for this to have been nothing than a simple attack. Then again, Vince realized, there was no such thing.

"…I think I'm gonna go to bed," Howard said faintly, as if unsure of his own decisions.

"You sure? It's still early. We can stay up together, watch telly," Vince suggested, rather selfishly as he didn't want to be left sitting up alone anymore.

"I'm tired." was Howard's only reply.

Vince didn't try pushing anymore. He offered Howard his shoulder, which the wounded maverick gratefully leant on and Vince helped him up, onto his feet and moved him towards their bedroom.

"I'm sorry, Vince." said Howard as Vince helped him to lay down on his bed. He was already free of his shirt, there didn't seem much point in wasting effort to change his bottoms as well.

Vince frowned down at him; "'Ey. You've got nothing to be sorry for, yeah? You didn't ask to be attacked like this. It's him who should be sorry, whoever he is, and trust me - 'e will be when I get my straighteners on 'im! This was not your fault, it's just something 'orrible that 'appened and it's over, alright?"

"I know. I just meant I'm sorry for not bringing back the Chinese."

"Oh," said Vince, feeling rather foolish. He shrugged; "Forget it. I ain't that hungry anymore. C'mon, sleep, you. Need your rest."

He fluffed Howard's pillow one last time before the older man rested his head on it. He smiled weakly up at Vince "Thanks, little man."

"What for?" scoffed Vince, not feeling much like someone deserving gratitude. More like a useless lump who'd sat watching X Factor while his friend was being beaten to a pulp.

Howard's eyes twinkled in the moonlit-pierced dark; "For takin' care of me."

"Yeah, well…." Vince blushed, oddly bashful. He couldn't remember the last time Howard had thanked him for anything; "S'my job, innit. As best mate and all."

"You are…" yawned Howard before quickly drifting into a restless sleep.

Vince didn't sleep that night. He spent the next long ten hours sat on Howard's bed, watching the older man lying beside him. Vince's head had never been so noisy before in his life. He wondered if that was what normal people with more than one brain cell had to put up with all the time. All the conflicting feelings coiling inside his gut. Fear, anger, self-loathing, aggression, paranoia, helplessness, loss, hate, love - especially that last one. It wasn't the first time he'd watched Howard sleep. But he'd never had the privilege of being this close before. Devastatingly handsome. He really had chosen the right words there. And he couldn't help but wonder why anyone would ever want to hurt such a beautiful man.

Every now and then during the night, Howard's peaceful brow would crease, his body beginning to flinch as nightmares invaded his mind. All Vince had to do was reach his hand out and stroke Howard's soft, dishevelled curls and, within seconds, the nightmares would retreat. Yet he still looked so fragile and that's what freaked Vince out more than anything. Howard was his rock. Not in the sense that he was reliable or down to earth - he walked around with his head in the clouds and vulnerable to bad luck and attacks such as this one. More that he was just there. Like a small child and his comfort blanket; the child knows the flimsy material wouldn't be able to shield him from harm or provide helpful advise, but the child will still cling to it and protect it at all costs. Because it makes him _feel _safe. Which is all you need sometimes.

And tonight, someone had tried to damage that which always made Vince feel ready to take on the world, the most precious thing in his life. Someone had ripped his blanket apart and left him with the shreds to repair himself. It twisted his gut again as he remembered Howard sitting so small and hunched on the sofa. That wasn't the Howard he knew. But it was still the Howard he loved. And he was grateful to every one of his Electro gods that there, in the witching hour's stillness, he was able to hear the faint echo of Howard's heart still beating, alive and well. The sound he lived for. Which was why he was staying up all night, keeping a protective vigil at his side, and why he wasn't gonna rest again until Howard was back to his old adorable, bumbling, neurotic self.

* * *

The next few days were very strange indeed. Howard's trauma obviously wasn't something that could be cured with just a good night's rest. Vince couldn't remember ever having seen Howard like this before. So openly terrified. It took some great persuading to just get him to leave their bedroom, never mind the flat, even just to go downstairs to the shop. Vince explained what had happened to Naboo and managed to get Howard a couple of days off work to recover. On the downside, this meant Vince had to work doubly hard than he usually did on his own in the shop - which he found out meant doing more than sitting in his red barbers chair and attracting customers. Ironically, this meant they attracted less customers and the days passed at a painfully slow pace.

The only thing that made it worth it was getting to closing time and seeing Howard's face light up when Vince trudged up the stairs. It had been so long since he'd received that sort of reaction from Howard by merely appearing in the same room. And with Howard still sore and stiff, it meant he had to rely on Vince for simple things like helping him reach a high shelf - which was a difficulty considering how much shorter Vince was - or just having a shoulder to lean on sometimes, all things that Vince was willing to do, endeared by Howard's glowing bashfulness. The more time they spent together, the further Howard seemed to come out of his shell, their usual playful banter beginning to resurface.

By Thursday, it seemed to be the talk of Camden that Vince Noir had disappeared off the face of the Earth. No one had known him to spend four nights in a row indoors without barely any contact with the outside world. These fretting rumours were known to everyone other than Vince and Howard. The two had spent every night since the attack together, not having a single care for the world outside their cosy little flat. They spent their evenings curled up on the sofa, watching telly, eating take away (unless Bollo was cooking), making up two new crimps - one about chopsticks and another about cushions. It was fun, simple and it meant they could laugh, something they hadn't done together in a long time. At night, Vince would sit beside Howard and watch him, or wait till he'd fallen asleep and spoon him from behind, keeping him safe and warm. They'd wake entangled and no question would be asked on how they ended up like that.

It wasn't until that Thursday night that they spoke about what had happened. Naboo and Bollo had had their questions but Vince had been determined not to push Howard, knowing it would do no good. Hell, he'd been pushing him for the past year with his bitchiness, fishing for a reaction to bring him out of himself - and it seemed to have done more harm than good. This night, once again, they were both just sitting on the sofa and watching the telly, a tub of buttered popcorn between them.

"So what's exactly happening again?" asked Vince before popping a handful into his mouth, his eyes on the flashing images on the screen.

"Uhm, I think she's an alien but she's in love with the werewolf. And the werewolf wants to destroy Big Ben in a terrorist plot but he's just found out that his mother is an MP." Howard replied, unsure.

"Wow," Vince sucked at his fingers; "_EastEnders _sure has changed since last I watched it."

The alien and the werewolf shared a clichéd kiss whilst fireworks exploded behind them.

Vince's hand dug into the bucket; "Ugh, nearly out of popcorn. Shall we break out the minstrels?"

"In a bit…" Howard sounded distracted. "…He said he knew you."

"Mmm?" Vince turned to him, frowning and cheeks stuffed like a squirrels. He swallowed; "Who?"

"The guy…The one who…He said he'd seen us."

Vince stared at Howard from his end of the sofa. He was looking at the telly screen though clearly what he was talking about had nothing to do with the zany soap opera. Vince quickly realized what he was on about.

He took the remote and pressed the 'mute' button on the screen. He then sat up, edging a little bit closer to Howard; "…Who is he then?"

Howard shrugged; "Dunno. He just said that he'd seen us…in our shop. He must have come in before, maybe you'd have recognised him. He was small. Probably even a bit smaller than you…"

"So if you didn't recognise him…Why did he…?" Vince asked, his words treading carefully, expecting the bear trap to gnash at any moment.

"He just said…We disgusted him. I didn't get what he meant. I thought he was drunk at first but he seemed lucid. I just think he wanted to pick a fight for any reason."

"And you faught back?"

Howard shook his head; "No…I tried not to at first. Just said I had somewhere to be. But he had these friends with him and they wouldn't leave me alone. I planned to just keep ignoring them all. He was the only one who seemed to wanna fight me though. Then he said…maybe he'd try 'my friend' next time he saw…"

Vince froze, understanding what he meant, reading the resentment on Howard's face. Tears of frustration brewed in his eyes.

"And I snapped. I didn't mean to. Hence why I hit the wall," Howard scoffed to himself, wringing his hands together in front of him; "Either that or I'm just crap. That was all he needed though. He started on me and he wouldn't stop. I tried to stop him, tried to push him off, but…Fuck, I SHOULD have been able to push him off! He was nothing and I let him…I'm so useless, I'm so fucking useless, so fucking-"

His inner rant descended into angry sobs as his resolve crumbled at long last. Vince shuffled forward and grabbed Howard's hands with one of his, using his other to hold Howard's head and pull him into an odd embrace with Vince clutching Howard's weeping head down against his chest. He'd known this would come eventually but it didn't make it much easier to witness.

"God, Vince…I'm so…"

"Shh, babe, it's alright." Vince soothed, not even noticing the slip of an endearment; "It's just me here, remember? You can do whatever you want. I'll still be here. I'll always be here."

Vince smoothed his hand over the back of Howard's head whilst he felt the ashamed maverick grip his hand tighter. His face nuzzled into Vince's shoulder and he felt the tears seep through to his skin but he didn't care. He was just glad Howard was getting it out of his system at last. He'd been worried. Howard wasn't usually one to bury things. He usually moaned them, in his crempy, poetic style, out to the world or set about immediately hurting himself via a good old wrist-twisting. This, however, had been something powerful and evil. Something ugly that had affected him more than a few harsh words by some dept collector thugs or losing a precious record.

He felt the older man shudder a few more bitter sobs, keening his nose against Vince's torso whilst Vince rubbed his back in soothing circles. He knew Howard didn't like Vince seeing him cry. What man did? And who else liked to play the 'Man of Action' role so much? But Howard had always been the sensitive one. Vince was able to take everything on the shoulder and always spot the silver lining. Life wasn't so easy for Howard. He'd never be as confident or cool-headed as Vince but that was one of the things Vince loved about him. How someone as seemingly dull as Howard could make life so interesting. And he made Vince feel needed. As if he had a purpose in life other than to look pretty and please his fans. He had a best friend who needed him and who he, in turn, needed back.

Howard sniffed against him as Vince rocked him soothingly; "I should've been able to take him…I just can't do anything."

"No, Howard, you listen to me," said Vince, bringing Howard's head up to look at him; "That guy was a fighter, alright? They don't have to be the Hulk for you to know that. Most of them are short, skinny guys, it makes things easier for him. Means they can be quicker. And they're gonna start a fight with someone bigger so they feel bigger - I saw it in that Brad Pitt film."

"What? _Fight Club_?"

"I was gonna say _Sinbad_ but, come to think of it, your one's better." Vince smiled lightly, stroking his thumbs over Howard's wet cheeks; "Look, just 'cause that guy was smaller doesn't mean you should've been able to take him. And, fuck, Howard, I am so glad you didn't keep trying. You were able to come home to me. You were the bigger man, alright, 'cause you refused to sink to that loser's level."

Howard snivelled again; "…I don't feel much like the bigger man."

"Tough, 'cause I say you are." Vince chided gently, shuffling closer Howard so he was pressed up against his side, his hand still stroking the back of his head; "Look, Howard, I've seen you act like a coward before so I know the difference. And what you did that night, trying to walk away, that was the smart thing. If you'd have faught back then his mates might have got involved or….th-they could've pulled out a knife or…oh fuck!"

He felt his own tears slip down his cheeks. Vince wiped his hands up over his face and Howard raised one of his to push a lock of Vince's mane away from his wet face; "Don't cry, little man…Please. You'll set me off again."

Vince laughed through his tears and smiled at the maverick; "What are they gonna do with us, ey?"

"Who knows," Howard shrugged; "…Only reason I tried to hit him that once was 'cause he threatened you."

"I doubt 'e even really knew us at all, Howard. Just big man talk." Vince looked down to the fading scars on Howard's hand. He placed his own tenderly over it; "…But thanks. It was sweet. Stupid. But sweet…"

Howard gave him another sad smile before his eyes shut again, memories from that night obviously flooding back to him again, now that the gate had been opened. Vince took him back into his arms and leant back on the sofa. He rocked him slowly, gently kissing the loose, brown curls and whispering how everything was gonna be all right again soon. And, for the first time in days, Vince truly believed his own words.

* * *

The next two days saw a vast improvement for Howard. Now that he'd had his break down, he seemed ready to rebuild himself again, with Vince's help of course. Friday and Saturday, he helped Vince in the shop, until eventually they slipped back into their old roles of Howard the busy salesman and Vince the motionless customer magnet.

They bickered as usual from the barber's chair to the counter, everything seemingly reverted to normal, except when Vince was pretending to read his magazine, he'd steal a glance over the top to look at Howard setting up Stationary Village. Becoming his old self again. And Vince's heart swelled with pride. He then wondered to himself if…

Saturday night. It had been a full week since Howard's attack. Even Vince knew his idea was probably too much to soon, not to mention risky and dumb, or so Naboo had put it to him when he'd asked for advise. Naboo had accused him of not being able to stay away from his Circle of Popularity. That hadn't been the case at all.

Vince managed to persuade Howard to come out with him. It hadn't been an easy task at all. Howard, like Naboo, had made excuses that it was too soon for him to go out yet. But Vince had been persistent. Howard was fast becoming an agoraphobic and it was best to stop it sooner rather than later. He promised him that it wouldn't be a nightclub or anywhere that he'd hate. He just needed to get Howard out of the house before it became a prison. A comfy prison, but a prison nonetheless. The biggest surprise had come when Howard had allowed Vince to choose his clothes for him. Vince was afraid he was gonna break down in tears of joy.

There was a pub just two streets away called The Randy Rooster. In spite of the name, the place was actually a very friendly and homely local bar, and Vince had found out via one of his many friends, namely Christina, the landlady, that an up-and-coming jazz singer was playing there that night.

"But, what about your allergies?" Howard had asked when he recognised the artist's name on the board outside the pub.

"Naboo gave me an injection. I'll be fine for tonight." Vince smiled back.

"Injection? But you hate needles."

"Yeah, and that's just when they're in my arm. See the trouble I went for you tonight?"

Howard cringed a little, suppressing a grin at Vince's expense, then raised his shining eyes; "Thank you."

"Don't mention it. EVER." Vince's eyes narrowed with warning as they went inside the pub.

When they got inside, the place seemed quite full though not exactly packed. Most people turned their heads to see who had just walked in the door. Vince practically felt Howard shudder beside him and grabbed the bigger man's hand. Howard looked at him and Vince smiled with his eyes;

"Don't worry. I'll look after you, remember."

Howard smiled back, his tense frame loosening.

The night went better than Howard expected and as good as Vince had hoped. At first. Christina had greeted them cheerfully at the bar and seemed surprisingly taken with Howard as were a couple of the barmaids. Vince praised himself on his choice of clothes for Howard; loose white shirt, jeans and open jacket. Simple but fitting. One of the barmaids, Nikki, said he looked like a sexy French writer. Vince was inclined to agree, though the way she was looking at him did make his stomach twist a little. He knew he shouldn't be selfish. He'd had Howard to himself for a whole week…no, make that ten years. It was about time he let him find a girlfriend. Someone who he could have a future with. Then the jazz singer, a young woman named Nina Hope, took to the tiny stage, and Howard took Vince's hand and led him to a booth near to her set.

Vince smooshed closer to Howard as others who wanted a close-up of Nina invaded their booth when there were no other seats. Vince was forced to practically lean against Howard, the alcohol making the situation a tad less awkward than usual. Howard raised his arm to allow Vince to rest against his torso. Vince didn't think he'd ever been so comfy in his life. He looked up at Howard, glad to see how relaxed and content he seemed, judging by the rare smile on his barely healed face. Nina began her set to an enthusiastic audience. With his head resting on Howard's chest, even Vince thought she didn't sound half bad. In fact, he wouldn't have objected to having moments like that one for the rest of his life. He guessed the adding rhythm of Howard's heartbeat helped.

It was when the first song was over that Howard suddenly bolted upright. Vince sat up, slightly disorientated, looking back at Howard who's focus had shot across to the other side of the pub. Vince frowned, his electro boy senses tingling - the best thing you could have without Spiderman around - guessing trouble was nearby. He could see the blood draining from the older man's face.

"What's a matter?" he asked, keeping an iron-tight hold of Howard's hand.

"He's here."

Vince squeezed his hand again and tried to look in Howard's focus direction; "Where?"

"There by the door…Red shirt…Can we go, please?" Howard begged, panicked, looking at Vince with the frightened eyes of a child rather than a middle aged man. "Before he see's, please."

"Howard, 'e ain't gonna hurt you here. 'E can't, I wouldn't let him."

"Please, Vince! For me. Can we just go?" The desperate, broken tone in Howard's voice melted Vince like a warm ice lolly. He nodded and they stood up, making their way towards the door, hand-in hand.

Vince's hand was just reaching the door when the deep, cockney twang rang out across the noise of the pub; "'Ere, don't I know you two from somewhere?"

The duo pretended not to hear him.

"Oi! You two benders, I'm speakin' to you!" A hand clapped on Vince's shoulder and span him around to come face to face with the thug who'd attacked Howard.

The man did have a familiar look about him. Vince had a vague memory of setting Bollo loose on a couple of skinheads who'd been trying to steal some merchandise from the shop.

The bloke really was a weedy, horrible looking excuse for a human being. He reminded Vince of a mix of Golem from Lord of the Rings and Lance soddin' Dior. If he hadn't hated the guy enough already for what he'd done to Howard, being reminded of his arch-nemesis was enough to send his blood boiling even more so. He was shorter than Vince but not as skinny. Though definitely slim enough to bob and weave through attacks like the snake he obviously was.

"Yeah. Can I 'elp you?" Vince said, more amused than afraid by the guy trying to start on them.

"You can, actually. You can 'elp by getting out of my town. You and your big ol' poofta grandad 'ere."

Vince felt Howard start to shake behind him, his hand quivering in his own, and he could hear him breathing back a whimper of fear. His free hand flexed and tightened with building rage.

He smirked at the guy; "And who are you then? 'Cause unless your names Johnny London, I don't think this town belongs to you."

"That **is **my name."

"Oh," Vince frowned; "Well, whatever, it doesn't mean this city is yours. D'you know who I am?"

"Some pathetic little drag queen trying protect his wuss of a sugar daddy?" Johnny mocked, looking Vince up and down as if he were made of excrement.

"Wrong." It wasn't Vince who replied. It was Christina; "That's Vince Noir. And if I was you, darlin, I'd quit while you've got a head."

"Vince Noir?" Johnny chuckled; "Never 'eard of you. What are you, some jumped-up ponce who thinks he's Prince of Camden?"

"Yeah, pretty much." Vince shot back, squeezing Howard's hand again. The crowd of the pub seemed to have all turned their attention to the three of them standing in front of the door, expecting a show. "And you hurt my friend."

Johnny scoffed again, glaring at Howard; "That loser? He was askin' for it. You both are. I can't stand your types around here. Gay-lords like 'im are bad enough and need a good kickin'. You're even worse - fucking transvestite. Points to you though, mate," he caught Howard's attention again; "You can bum this thing and pretend it's a he or a she. Must be hours of fun." The guy finished on a laugh. Except he was the only one laughing.

Vince released Howard's hand and stepped towards Johnny. He heard Howard hiss at him from behind but he continued until his nose was nearly touching his enemie's.

He smiled a wicked smile; "Swee'heart. I'm more of a man than you'll ever be. And I'm more of a woman than you'll ever get."

At Johnny's expression, Vince grabbed his face with both hands and pulled him into a rough snog in front of the entire pub. The whole crowd gasped, watching as Johnny stayed stunned as Vince forced his tongue inside his mouth for a few humiliating seconds, before shoving him back into the arms of his cronies.

Vince stepped back, wiping his mouth as if he'd kissed a toad; "Now who's the poofta?"

The crowd erupted into laughter at Johnny London.

He didn't like that one bit. He straightened up, brushing himself off and in the next moment he was launching towards Vince; "You little bitch!" His fist was tight and raised. He brought it forward, only to be stopped in mid-air as it slammed into an unexpected force.

Johnny's eyes widened and another surprised gasp swarmed through the crowd.

Vince turned his head to see Howard's palm raised, holding Johnny's fist tight; "…I think you need to leave, sonny. You're the one who's not wanted here."

"He's right. Get out, you're barred," Christina declared from the bar.

Johnny's furious expression twitched away from Howard. He pulled his fist back and nodded towards his few friends. Howard watched them usher themselves out from the pub and off into the night. He then turned to see Vince looking at him with a mix of shock and wonder.

"Wow…" he breathed, amazed; "Howard, that was incredible."

"It was pretty good, wasn't it…Ow!" He flexed his palm out, wincing.

"What it is?" asked Vince, taking Howard's hand and examining it, seeing a small bruise beginning to swell in the centre of his palm.

"Trust him to have a proper chavvy ring on him."

Vince smiled at Howard again before bringing his hand up and kissing his palm; "Doesn't matter. You were still amazing." He then leaned up and kissed him on the lips.

An all-round 'awh', with a couple of wolf whistles, came from their audience.

"Ugh. Slashers," Vince tittered. Though Howard seemed more than a little dazed by Vince's peck just then.

Christina sauntered up to them through the crowd; "Thank you, boys. I've been wanting a final reason to bar those guys for months."

"No problem, Chris." Vince chirped back.

"Always happy to help, my dear." said Howard curtly, as if he were from a fifties western.

Christina giggled like a schoolgirl, clearly enchanted; "I'd hang onto him, Vince. He's a keeper."

As the landlady wandered back behind the bar, the crowd turned their attentions back towards each other in order to discuss the show and Nina Hope said her introduction for her next song. Vince and Howard continued standing before the door, Vince's hands holding Howard's, Howard's eyes drinking in all that was Vince.

Vince looked up to see Howard gazing down at him; "What?" he snickered.

"What did she mean? 'Hang onto me'?" he asked, confused.

"Oh. Well, normally if I come in here with someone, chances are I won't be with them the next time I come in 'ere. Not 'cause I'm a player but…just 'cause they clearly ain't what I want. And Christina's always told me when I do finally find what I want then I'd be a twat to ever let it go."

Howard's mouth opened to form a perfect 'O'. "So…she thinks that we're?"

"She wouldn't be the first, would she?" Vince smiled, remembering comments of 'man and wife' ever since the first day they'd met; "Guess we must make a good lookin' couple." he inched further closer to Howard.

"Yeah, but…we're not…" Howard's cheeks were turning red.

"Aren't we? Really?" Vince pressed. Now seemed as good a time as any to talk about it.

Howard licked his lips; "I dunno…I mean, I look at you, and I look at what you just did…What you've done for me this past week. I see how incredible you are and how loved you make me feel. And I think…Maybe…"

Vince smiled, his heart swelling. He stroked a hand up over Howard's doubt-conflicting face and leaned in closer; "Well maybe 'maybe' is 'yes'."

"Maybe…" Howard gave a wolfish grin. The two boys began laughing for reasons they weren't sure why.

Vince cupped Howard's face in his hands and brought his face down to his. Their lips fell into a sweet, soft kiss that put all their previous risqué forbidden pecks into perspective. Vince felt the butterflies start a mosh pit in his tummy whilst Howard's hands gripped his back and he kissed back, feeling the jolt pass between them.

They pulled back slowly, both lost for anything louder than a blissful smile, looking at each other as if one of them had just fallen from the heavens.

Nina started up her next song. Something for those 'who live to love' as she described in her introduction. The soulful music began to drift over the crowd and reached the two men standing together, hand in hand, at the door.

"Uhm, Vince Noir. Would you, uh…do me the honour of…uhm…" Howard trailed off, that kiss having left him, if possible, even more a bundle of nerves.

Vince grinned; "Oi. You askin' me to dance?"

"Probably."

The mod laughed, his eyes shining with love for the man who's hand was entwined with his. He tugged him gently towards the open floor where the couples were spread out.

It was a slow song, meaning it called for a slow dance, something Howard was more than grateful for as it meant he had some idea what to do. No call for pulling shapes or jumping around. Vince placed one hand on Howard's back, the other cupped in his partner's hand, whilst Howard held the small of his back, holding him close and safe as they swayed to the music.

Howard nestled his chin atop Vince's soft hair and suddenly he was the luckiest man in London. Vince rested his head back on Howard's chest, listening to his favourite sound in the world.

_I fell into the Moon_

_And it covered you in Blue_

_I fell into the Moon_

_Can I make it right?_

_Can I spend the night?_

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**There you have it, folks. Reviews would be lovely. xx**


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